


6 Words

by orphan_account



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 12:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10831329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: 6 words, and some spilt coffee.





	6 Words

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally just a self indulgent Drabble with no accurate characterisation and a lot of me just wanting soulmates to exist.
> 
> Edit: this was originally called 5 words but I can't count. There's also a big ol' plot hole that I might be able to fix if I write a part two. That's what you get for not proof reading properly, folks!

Marvin is tired ("Ha, that's new, isn't it, Marv?"). He's wearing a slightly-too-baggy shirt and his not so nice pair of jeans and his sort-of-okay-I-guess jacket.  


He's tired, so he doesn't bother with breakfast this morning, and swears to pick up a coffee on his way to work. He's tired so he can't be bothered to double-knot his shoelaces or to try and comb his hair into something resembling a style. He's so tired, in fact, that he doesn't even think about trying to cover up those six words right at the base of his neck.  


They've been there since he can remember, in that slightly slanted, spiky handwriting. "You have a good day, now." Full stop and all. And it's probably the worst phrase to have. Anyone who's been to a shop could tell you that. It couldn't have been something a little more defining maybe? Instead he has to suffer through endless moments of excitement, hope even, when the cashier at the convenience store bids him a good day. He thinks the painfully childish fluttery feeling he gets should be gone by now, considering how much it's happened, but he doesn't really understand the rules of this whole thing anyway.  


His day gets worse when the man in front of him decides to walk the pace of a snail. He is messing about with a Polaroid camera, snapping seemingly haphazard pictures of everything around him. It wouldn't really matter all that much, but Marvin is tired, and this path can barely fit one person down it in single file and he needs to get to work.  


"Excuse me, can I get past?" Marvin raises his voice to catch the other man's attention. No response. Marvin grips his coffee (he did buy some pre-journey) and asks again.  


"Can I get past?" 

There is a little more edge to his voice this time, barely noticeable, but still there. The man turns to face him this time, looks him up and down once and makes a little humming noise, but does not move. If Marvin wasn't tired he would probably notice that this man is gorgeous, in all senses of the word. But Marvin is tired, and now he's pissed too, so does not let this fact process in his brain.  


He should just ask nicely, one more time so he can get on with his day, and drink his coffee. But he is Marvin, and he is tired.  


"Just get out of the way, asshole." He shoulders his way past Polaroid man and briskly walks down the little alley. Well, he would, if it weren't for the fact that his wrist had just been grabbed by that asshole with the camera. He spins Marvin round at such a velocity that he loses grip of his coffee cup and its contents splashes unceremoniously over the only decent jacket that Marvin owns. Then, in the most sardonic, yet saccharine, voice that he can muster, camera man says, "you have a good day now."  


Marvin almost doesn't see the messy scrawl that loops around his newly appointed least-favorite-person's wrist, but it just catches his eye as he turns away, pulling off his coffee soaked jacket.  


The man with the camera watches him go, eyes catching on the neck of the t-shirt that is pulled down when the jacket is removed. He sees them immediately then, those six words on his neck. His eyes widen, his pulse quickens, his mouth drops a little in shock. He knows the words that wrap around his wrist so well already; they're burned into his memory. 

"Just get out of the way, asshole."

It isn't until Marvin is halfway down the street that he stops dead, and pivots on his feet.


End file.
